Siblings
by Eratta
Summary: Penname has been changed, please take note. Complete Originally 'Don't leave me' T'Pol thinks a loved one is dead. Can she take the grief, or will her mental barriers break down completely?
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I own nothing except Emris. Everything else belongs to Paramount. I'd like to thankeveryone who left reviews. Remember, as long as you keep them coming, I'll keep writing!  
  
It was a normal day in deep space. Well, as normal as things got in space. Sub commander T'Pol was sitting in a secluded spot of the mess hall, quietly eating her Plomeek broth and reviewing scans taken during the night. It had been 4 months ago to the day that she had become a member of Enterprise's crew. While the senior officers were slowly coming to accept and trust her, she still remained distant and aloof to the others. Her view of humans was slightly altered since the beginning of the mission. Yes, she still thought humans were illogical and a highly irrational species. Sometimes their displays of passion disturbed her, but she was becoming used to them. A distinct smell reached her, and she looked up at the Chief engineer.  
  
Charles "Trip" Tucker beamed down at her, blue eyes bright. He was the most illogical of them all, T'Pol thought. A brilliant engineer, he could be perfectly cordial one moment and seething with rage the next. She wryly noticed how she seemed to have the most potent effect on his disposition.  
  
"Mornin'"  
  
She acknowledged him with a nod and blink of her eyes. Trip sighed as he sat down with his waffles. No matter what he did, the Vulcan never willingly engaged in small talk.  
  
"So, what's up?"  
  
She raised a thin, elegant eyebrow. Again he sighed. This was going to be a long day if she was in another one of her Vulcan moods  
  
"I mean, how are ya?"  
  
"I am well."  
  
"Glad ta hear it."  
  
With that, trip decided to end the tiniest conversation he had ever had. Instead, he focused on his waffles, occasionally stealing glances at T'Pol. She didn't seem to notice as she focused on her PADD, but that meant nothing.  
  
"What is it that makes you stare at me, Commander?"  
  
Trip nearly choked on a large piece of waffle. Her keen brown gaze was now focused on him, and he shifted nervously. That was a very intense gaze.  
  
"Nothin'" He muttered.  
  
T'Pol was about to press for a less nebulous answer when the comm beeped.  
  
"Bridge to Tucker" Trip gladly rose from the table and the brown eyes that threatened to bore a hole into his head. "Tucker here."  
  
"Hey Trip, would you mind starting your shift five minutes early?"  
  
"Not at all sir."  
  
"Please run the message by T'Pol and have her come up too. Archer out."  
  
Hearing her name, T'Pol rose, carried her tray to the clean up shelves, and walked out the door, trailing a slightly smiling chief engineer in her wake.  
  
"Good Morning Trip, T'Pol" Archer greeted as they entered the bridge. Taking a seat at his consol, Trip smugly noticed that she didn't even nod at the captain. Not wasting any time, Archer began.  
  
"We've picked up an automated distress beacon about 6 lightyears away."  
  
T'Pol looked up. This was hardly anything out of the ordinary.  
  
".with a garbled signature. There's no ship nearby, so we're not sure of its someone we know, or someone." he paused and then continued sheepishly. "..alien. I was hoping you could help Hoshi determine its origin, T'Pol."  
  
"Of course." Was her only response. Head bent over her consol, T'Pol was already at work. Archer smiled at Trip. It seemed that Vulcans never procrastinated about work, but had no trouble procrastinating anything else.  
  
About half an hour later, Archer glanced about the room. Two ensigns were at the helm and armory stations, filling in for Malcolm and Travis. Hoshi was sorting out mail, and T'Pol was still in the same position she had been in half and hour ago. Archer started to look away, but turned back quickly as something about the Vulcan changed. She frowned!  
  
"Something wrong, SubCommander?"  
  
No response.  
  
"T'Pol?"  
  
Her head shot up. "I apologize for my lack of attention." Hoshi hid a smile behind her hand. She could almost swear T'Pol's voice had been sheepish. Archer grinned, obviously just as amused as Hoshi.  
  
"I was asking if something was wrong."  
  
"The signature on that distress beacon is Vulcan."  
  
This time Archer frowned. "Are you sure?"  
  
"Yes." Archer sighed. He didn't like encounters with Vulcans. Almost every one had ended badly. He turned to the ensign at the helm.  
  
"Plot a course for the beacon, warp 4.5"  
  
One thing Archer knew was that Vulcans never did anything without a good reason. If the emergency automated beacon had been deployed, they were obviously in trouble. Settling back in his chair, he prepared to call Travis to the bridge, when a small sound caught his ear. Turning, he saw that Hoshi and Trip were both looking at T'Pol. She still sat at her station, but she gripped her PADD with white knuckles, staring at it as if she could bore a hole into it. He noticed that her face had become pale and a tinge greenish.  
  
"What is it?" Trip asked  
  
For the second time that day, T'Pol didn't respond when spoken to. She slowly lifted her eyes from the PADD, still clutching it. Her gaze locked with Archer's.  
  
"Captain, I am unwell. I request a leave of my duties for the time being."  
  
Archer was so confused he just nodded his consent. An instant later, she was gone.  
  
"What the hell was that about?" Trip asked, voicing the thoughts of the three senior officers. There had been something in her eyes. He couldn't quite place it, but as the saying had it, she had looked like a deer caught in headlights.  
  
In her own quarters, T'Pol wasted no time in sorting through her mail. Only three letters, one from her mother, two from colleagues. She nearly sighed with relief. On the bridge, she had nearly disgraced herself. Seeing the Kev'Lir on her scans of the beacon had awoken a strange emotion, one she couldn't quite place. Thoughts of Emris flooded her brain, as did a sense of fragile calm. There were no death notices; he must be alright. But then another thought wormed its way into her consciousness. Perhaps no one knew that the Kev'Lir had deployed its automated emergency beacon. These thoughts were like torrents of water, straining her mental barriers against the emotions. She sat down on her meditation mat shakily. They would arrive at their destination in 2 hours, and she wanted to be prepared for whatever she would have to face. 


	2. Chapter 2

Back on the Bridge, Captain Archer and the senior officers (minus T'Pol of course) were in the situation room.  
  
"So, we haven't picked up any signs of a ship? Just a Vulcan distress beacon?" Travis asked."  
  
"Yeah, but somethin' musta happened. I mean, Vulcans don't usually like askin' for help." Trip interjected.  
  
"Where's the Sub Commander? Isn't this her area of expertise, seeing as it's her people, afterall?" Malcolm asked quietly.  
  
Archer chose his next words carefully. If he told him that T'Pol had turned green on duty and was obviously disturbed, Malcolm would think he was crazy. Maybe I am crazy, the captain thought. T'Pol is the single most disciplined person I know. Even in this kind of situation, she always keeps her head.  
  
"She's not feeling very well." Archer answered.  
  
Trip nearly snorted. 'Not feeling well' was an understatement. If T'Pol simply wasn't feeling well, nobody would have noticed. He briefly entertained the idea of trying to help her out. Then he remembered that time he had tried advising her on her marriage plans, and immediately thought better of it.  
  
Meanwhile, in her quarters, T'Pol was definitely not feeling better. She had been trying to calm her thoughts for meditation for 20 minutes without success. However, she was sure of one thing: that growing emotion was dread.  
  
Flashback She was 10 years old, still living with her parents on the southern hemisphere of Vulcan. Familiar smells overwhelmed her; Plomeek broth, baking bread, fresh clean water, as well as her mother's unique scent. ~ "T'Pol, go tell Emris to come to the table."~ Her mother said. She was a small woman, just slightly taller than T'Pol, with the same dark eyes. Her light hair was still glossy and full; any non-Vulcan would think she was in her 30's. T'Pol walked through the familiar passages of dark stone, savoring the warm, dry feeling of the air as she moved. She turned into a room on the right and beheld a young Vulcan male. Emris was 24 to T'pol's 10, sharing her eyes, skin tone and hair. He was tall, broad shouldered and covered in sinewy muscle; in other words, physically attractive in every way.  
  
~"It is time for the meal."~ She told him. He looked up from his PADD and gave her a tiny smile. It had always astonished T'Pol that he would do that. If their parents knew, he would be severely reprimanded and sent to the nearest temple to undergo Kohlinar. She had always been uneasy when he smiled; it was something no one else did. But it never failed to give her a warm glow to know that he only smiled at her. Their affection ran deep; deeper than in most relationships. Though he was fourteen years older and studying to become a physician, he always found time to converse and debate with her, ask her about her own studies, her own ambitions. In fact, it was he who finally made up her mind when she considered putting aside a normal life for a career. She remembered that conversation well.  
  
~"I am uncertain."~  
  
~"Why?"~  
  
~"Beacause it is not the usual path for women. I do not want to look back on my life and be dissatisfied."~  
  
The conversation paused. T'Pol looked at Emris curiously as she appeared to be struggling with himself.  
  
~"Dearest sister, do you know what your name means?"~  
  
She had faltered. On Vulcan, names were very important. It was said that one's name determined their path in life. Such knowledge was kept from individuals until they chose a profession. Only then was it revealed to them. Sometimes names and the decisions didn't match, and those individuals often spent years trying to decide which to follow.  
  
~"No." ~  
  
~"It means 'woman of the stars, who is not daunted by the unknown."~  
  
She had made up her mind then and there, and enlisted in the Vulcan Space Program the following morning.  
  
End Flashback  
  
T'Pol opened her eyes, uncomfortably aware of the cool air, human smells, and tiny cabin that served as her quarters. She was engulfed in a sense of longing; longing for her home, her people, and especially her family. She glanced at the chronometer above the bed. It had been 92 minutes since she had left the bridge. No one had raised her on the comm. to inform her of any findings, which logically led to the assumption that there were no findings. Any and all shreds of hope disintegrated. He is dead, she thought. Slowly, as if moving against a strong wind, she went to the closet and pulled out a tiny box. All Vulcans carried identical boxes when away from home. It was previously untouched and covered with a thin film of dust. Carefully, she opened it and pulled out a single dark green ribbon. Reverntly, she tied it around her left wrist, and left her quarters.  
  
Nevermind that she was still unsettled and had failed to meditate. She had a job to do, and there was nothing she could do for Emris now. 


	3. chapter 3

Back on the bridge, Archer and the rest of his crew were sitting quietly, awaiting his orders. When the alarm on T'Pol's consol beeped quietly, he stood up with a wince. Those chairs were comfortable, but sitting in them for hours at a time could make anyone stiff.  
  
"Drop to Impulse" he ordered Mayweather  
  
He turned to T'Pol, awaiting her report. He noticed that she looked.different. Something about her had changed; something he couldn't quite put his finger on.  
  
"There is no debris, just the beacon." She told him softly.  
  
It was retrieved by the transporter, and Trip went with T'Pol to figure out what had made the thing deploy. It was a silent ride down the Turbolift, and as her index finger reached out to press a key he noticed a dark green ribbon tied around her wrist. That's unusual, she never wears anything other than that catsuit, he thought briefly.  
  
In a small, quiet part of engineering, they sat down to work. Trip got out his tools and began to tinker with the small, round orb. T'Pol, in the meantime, ran her scanner over it and reviewed her findings silently. After a good twenty minutes of silence, Trip sat back with a sigh.  
  
"Well, I can't find out how ta open this damned thing. You havin' any luck with your scans?"  
  
She didn't even bother to look up.  
  
"It was deployed two days ago in the exact spot we found it. It contains information about the crew and their mission, but it is impossible to discover what happened."  
  
Her voice was soft, and looking at her slightly bent figure, Trip guessed he knew what was wrong.  
  
"You know it's not your fault."  
  
She looked up, startled.  
  
"I mean, there was no way we could have known; nothing we could do."  
  
"I know."  
  
Silence returned as Trip wondered whether or not he had comforted her. Finally, she spoke.  
  
"I should report to the captain."  
  
He nodded and followed her up to the bridge.  
  
"What kind of ship was it?" Archer asked. T'Pol had just come upon him in his ready room, overlooking the star charts of the area.  
  
"A medical supply ship." She answered passively  
  
Archer almost itched to ask what was bothering her, but stopped himself just in time. She was Vulcan, and even if she was unhappy, she would rather eat meat than talk about her own emotions.  
  
"How many were on board?" Again a shadow passed over her face before she pushed it away.  
  
"Twenty-six."  
  
He sighed. He had just conversed with Admiral Forrest, who had no doubt related the entire thing to Ambassador Soval by now. He was pretty sure that the Vulcans would squash his request to investigate further. Noticing that she was still standing, he changed subjects.  
  
"Have you eaten yet?"  
  
"Not since this morning."  
  
"Well, go eat something. You look like you need it. You can take the rest of the night off."  
  
"I would prefer to continue working until my shift is over."  
  
Again he failed to understand that look in her face. Defeated, he nodded. As she turned to go, he added,  
  
"T'Pol, I'm sorry."  
  
For a moment she looked back at him, almost as if she wanted to tell him something. The moment passed, and she responded,  
  
"So am I."  
  
5 Hours later, Archer looked in on his crew. It was 2200 hours, and the senior officers were all off duty, their consoles manned by silent ensigns. Only T'Pol was still at her consol.  
  
"SubCommander, your shift ended two hours ago."  
  
She gazed up at him, eyes dull and tired.  
  
"I have been reviewing scans of this sector."  
  
"What was so interesting that it took you five hours?"  
  
"This area holds a number of ancient nebulas. They would be worth studying."  
  
Archer knew a plea for an away mission when he heard one.  
  
"Alright, you and Commander Tucker can take a shuttlepod first thing in the morning, but for now SubCommander, you better get to your quarters."  
  
She obeyed and silently left her consol. In her quarters, she changed into her meditation robes and lit her candles. Not surprisingly, mediation escaped her again. Her stomach rumbled, and her head ached, but it was still astonishing when she felt wetness at the corner of her eyes. But she brushed them away with an agitated hand, blew out the candles, and got into bed. I will not let this beat me. She thought fiercely, appalled that she would resort to crying; the response actions of an toddler. Then she fell into an exhausted sleep.  
  
The following morning, Hoshi, Malcolm, Trip and Travis were all in the situation room, awaiting the arrival of their captain and his second-in- command.  
  
"Jeez, after that movie last night, I didn't sleep a wink." Hoshi commented with a yawn  
  
"Don't like scary clowns, eh Hosh?" Travis joked. She gave him a playful shove.  
  
"Not when your earliest memories of childhood trauma involve them. Trust me, you'd be scared too."  
  
T'Pol entered, holding a mug of green tea. Trip noted that while the bags were gone from her eyes, she still didn't look too great. He also noticed that she still wore that ribbon around her wrist. Archer entered seconds later.  
  
"What do we do today, sir?" Hoshi asked through a yawn.  
  
Archer smiled at the young ensign. In just four months, she had come a long way.  
  
"I've decided that T'Pol and Trip are going to take a shuttlepod out and for a while?"  
  
"Shuttlepod?" Trip reiterated, glancing from the captain to the Vulcan.  
  
"What for?"  
  
"T'Pol believes the nebulas are worth exploring. You'll only be out for a few hours."  
  
Trip shrugged. Archer dismissed them, and the two next in command made their way to the shuttlepod bay.  
  
Things went rather slowly that morning. Absolutlely nothing happened on Enterprise. The same could be said about shuttlepod 2. After 3 hours of minimal conversation and more nebulas than he would ever want to see, the chief engineer thought he would scream in frustration. He had absolutlely nothing to do but look out through the viewport, and then back to T'Pol, who looked as passive as ever.  
  
The truth of the matter, however, was very different. T'Pol appeared calm, but she was slowly losing the battle against her rising emotions. And she knew it too. She knew it was only a matter of time before her mental restraints broke. She could only prolong the inevitable, but not for too much longer. To ease the struggle, she threw herself into her work. Any idleness would allow thoughts of Emris flood her brain, and that would certainly lead to disgrace, particularly since she was with the Commander. He was the one who often managed agitated her, and to minimize any possibilities of strife between them, she opted to say as little as possible. But Trip wouldn't have it.  
  
"Whatcha thinkin' about?"  
  
"My scans."  
  
"Anythin' interesting'?"  
  
"Several things. Would you like to see them?"  
  
He laughed, not sure if she was serious or sarcastic.  
  
"T'Pol cut the act."  
  
She looked up at him, a hint of her usual condescension in her face.  
  
"I do not know what you mean, Commander."  
  
He sighed. She was going to be difficult. But then again, Vulcans were always difficult, he thought to himself wryly.  
  
"Look, I know you're tryin' ta hid it and all, but to be honest with ya, its not workin'."  
  
"I am not hiding anything." She answered, but her voice sounded a bit strange. Trip pressed his point, not sure where this was going.  
  
"Somethin' been botherin' ya since we picked up scans of that beacon. I know you like your privacy and all, but we can tell."  
  
If he hadn't spent the last 4 months with her, he would have sworn that she looked alarmed. But T'Pol didn't become alarmed, he reassured himself.  
  
"We?"  
  
"The senior officers. The capn' asked me if I knew what was goin' on. I have to admit, I'm in the dark as much as the rest of 'em."  
  
T'Pol averted her gaze, and he waited for her to respond. Seconds like hours passed before she muttered something incomprehensible.  
  
"What was that?"  
  
"I said I am in mourning."  
  
"Well, 'course you are. I would be too. But T'Pol, we've been through this, and I know its hard, but you've gotta let it go."  
  
"It is more difficult than you imagine."  
  
Again he waited, feeling that she was about to spill about the whole thing.  
  
"I.knew someone on board the Kev'Lir. He and I were.close, to say the least. I am disturbed by his death."  
  
There, that was it. She once again became tight lipped, and lifted defiant, challenging eyes to his face, daring him to say something or make a pun about her inability to control and conceal her emotions. Instead, the SubCommander was shocked to see sympathy and empathy written plainly across his features.  
  
"Jesus Christ T'Pol, I had no idea. I'm real sorry."  
  
She relaxed slightly.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Is there anythin'.erm.that I can do for ya?"  
  
"No, but I would appreciate it if you wouldn't mention in to anyone. I'm sure you understand it is a very private matter."  
  
He nodded vigorously, and returned to staring out into the latest nebula, which had suddenly become fascinating.  
  
"It is interesting, however," she mused.  
  
"That you are the only one who ever approaches me on personal subjects."  
  
He knew what she was referring to, and gave a sheepish grin as his face turned pink.  
  
"I guess I just like to help people get things out in the open."  
  
Their gazes locked, and he could swear that she looked a tad bit more peaceful. 


	4. chapter 4

Back on Enterprise, Hoshi was confused. She was sitting at her consol, doing her normal daily routine, consisting mostly of sitting and listening into space. She was mostly picking up static, but there were other sounds as well, sounds like a ship was somewhere just within the reach of their sensors.  
  
"Hey Malcolm, could you take a look at this?" She asked, transferring the data to him.  
  
The armory officer briefly looked at the scans. He would much rather be in the armory running test on the new plasma conduits. Then something jumped out at him.  
  
"I think it's a ship." He mused out loud. Archer came to look over his shoulder.  
  
"S'cuse me." He mumbled as he reached out to tap the consol. Malcolm would have rolled his eyes, but a good officer didn't roll his eyes at his superior. Well, at least not on duty.  
  
Finished, the captain turned to his helmsman.  
  
"Travis, can you get a visual?"  
  
A small cruiser appeared on the view screen. The picture was fuzzy due to the distance between them, but they could tell it was smooth and sleek, obviously built for speed. Long distance scans showed that it was well equipped with polarized hull plating and an impressive weapons array. 'What I wouldn't give for something like that on Enterprise' Malcolm mused, eyeing the alien technology.  
  
"Hail them."  
  
"No response, sir."  
  
The ship suddenly went to warp. In Archer's book, that was usually a bad sign. Plus, they had been spotted only 1.5 lightyears away from the Vulcan emergency beacon. He turned to Malcolm.  
  
"What warp was that?"  
  
"I should think it was Warp 3, sir."  
  
Archer fairly itched. He wanted to pursue that alien vessel, but Trip and T'Pol were still in Shuttlepod 2. Picking them up would put even more distance between Enterprise and the suspicious ship.  
  
"Enterprise to Shuttlepod 2."  
  
"T'Pol here."  
  
"We've picked up scans of an alien vessel. We're going to scope it out and then return for you two, okay?"  
  
"Acknowledged."  
  
Archer went back to his Captain's chair and sat down, facing Travis' back.  
  
"Plot a pursuit course, ensign. Warp 3.2."  
  
"Aye sir."  
  
Back in the Shuttlepod, the two second-in-commands settled in for an extended trip. T'Pol still had her face glued to the PADD, but Trip was getting really bored really fast. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since lunch 6 hours ago.  
  
"I'm gonna heat up some rations." He said, standing up gingerly in the confined space. The Vulcan science officer didn't seem to notice.  
  
"Ya want anything?"  
  
"No."  
  
"You need to eat. How 'bout some broccoli and spinach pasta?"  
  
"No, thank you Commander."  
  
Trip sighed in frustration as silence engulfed the pod for the umpteenth time. He couldn't take much more of this silent treatment.  
  
While Trip was debating the pros and cons of jumping out the airlock, Enterprise was quickly pursuing the enemy vessel.  
  
"I've got a visual." Hoshi called out.  
  
"On screen, and try hailing them again Hoshi."  
  
The communications officer nodded, and sent out a transmission. Again there was no response. Archer was pondering his next move when Malcolm's crisp British accent rang out across the bridge.  
  
"They're arming weapons!"  
  
"Polarize the hull plating and charge our weapons. Keep trying to hail them!"  
  
A blast from the alien ship made the Enterprise rock, lights blinking and sensors going haywire trying to register damage, reroute energy and collect accurate measurements of the force of the blast.  
  
Archer turned to his weapons expert, brow furrowed in purpose.  
  
"Lieutenant Reed,"  
  
"We've taken damage sir, but mostly on the port side cargo bays. The hull's holding."  
  
"For how long?" Archer asked in a strained voice as another blast sent shudders through the ship, making the bulkheads groan in protest.  
  
"We can't keep this up for long sir, but neither can they. They're already rerouting energy from life-support to keep weapons charged."  
  
Archer paused, weighing the barrage of possible solutions in his mind. A third blast narrowed his choices down to one as emergency lights came on all over the consols.  
  
"Return fire, target their weapons system."  
  
It took two well aimed shots from the phase cannons, but the weapons on the enemy ship were rendered useless. They also had lost too much power to go to Warp.  
  
"Open a channel, Hoshi."  
  
Almost instantly, a strange triangular shaped face appeared. The senior officers had to keep themselves from grimacing. The skin was a sallow shade of green, housing pores from which oozed a think whitish discharge. Tiny, piggy eyes stared in contemptuous fear at Captain Archer.  
  
"Kap'lich neen."  
  
Archer turned expectantly to Hoshi, who took a few moments to tap something into her UT.  
  
"They surrender, but they say that we're trespassing in their sector."  
  
Archer exchanged a look with Reed.  
  
"Why didn't they respond to hails?"  
  
Again Hoshi tapped into her UT, and spoke cautiously in the new language.  
  
"They had very urgent business, and when we followed, they assumed we had come to invade their system."  
  
"So they were going to alert others that we were here, without even telling us what we had done?"  
  
Again the oriental language genius spoke to the alien, this time without the help of her translator. The alien appeared to become more agitated after she spoke and reiterated her question, but finally relented.  
  
"They would have stopped to fend us off, but they had already taken on other intruders."  
  
"Could those other intruders possibly be in the same situation as us?"  
  
"Its very possible sir. Should I ask who they took?"  
  
He nodded, curiosity piqued by this unusual news. He studied Hoshi's face as the alien spoke back. He waited patiently as surprise dawned on her face.  
  
"They have 6 Vulcans on board!"  
  
Archer looked back at her, visibly stunned. Vulcans? Who the hell was stupid enough to have messed with Vulcans?  
  
"Tell them that this was all a mistake, and that neither we nor the Vulcans knew we were trespassing. We're going to send a shuttlepod over for them now, and then we'll be on our way."  
  
Ensign Sato relayed the message, and as anticipated, the alien visibly became furious.  
  
"He's not going to comply, sir." Hoshi said tiredly.  
  
"Then remind him that he is in no position to argue."  
  
Finally, after several long seconds of silence following Archer's ultimatum, the alien grimaced, nodded his head, and ended the transmission. Archer gave Hoshi a small smile, and sent the security team to the shuttlepod bay.  
  
Ten minutes later, six Vulcans were escorted onto the Enterprise. They all appeared to be mostly unhurt, save for a few black eyes, and were led by a tall male.  
  
"I'm Captain Jonathon Archer. Welcome to Enterprise."  
  
The leader sized him up, dark eyes seemingly looking into his soul.  
  
"I am Emris, chief physician of the Kev'Lir. We thank you for your assistance."  
  
Something about his reserved nature reminded Archer of T'Pol. Come to think of it, he even looked a little like her, exemplifying the same confident stance of command, dark eyes and impeccably neat brown hair. But that was a thought for another time.  
  
Back on the shuttlepod, Trip had gone to sleep, while T'Pol monitored the shuttlepod sensors. Even she was starting to get bored, yet sleep still eluded her. It had been three days since her last proper meditation and sleep, and the strain definitely showed. Her eyes were dull, her uniform rumpled, and the skin beneath her eyes sagged just enough to be noticeable. She fiddled absentmindedly with the green ribbon on her wrist, a very un- Vulcan action. Yet, why not? She thought defiantly. She was practically alone, just as she had been for the past 4 months, 3 days. Alone, now more than ever. The person she felt the most for was gone, and she couldn't even go home to Vulcan to honor his memory. Instead she was here, in the middle of space, playing nursemaid to humans. As if to add fuel to her thoughts, Trip snored. T'Pol glanced at him, painfully aware of his smell and the fact that her emotions would erupt at any moment. Then, mercifully, the comm. chirped, and Ensign Sato's voice sounded through the cabin, rousing a groggy Commander Tucker.  
  
"Enterprise to Shuttlepod 2, we will be arriving at your coordinates in 6 minutes, standby."  
  
"Copy that Enterprise. You sure took ya' time." He grinned at T'Pol, who quickly glanced away. Damn, what the hell is goin' on with that woman? He thought. She looked like hell, and she needed to eat. He decided then and there to be meddlesome again, even though she'd probably give a solid verbal ass-kicking, and make sure that she got food and sleep as soon as they were back on the ship.  
  
15 Minutes later, the Subcommander and Commander exited the decon chamber, dressed in fresh uniforms. Trip was pleased to see that T'Pol appeared to be heading towards her quarters. Unfortunatley, that was the exact same time that the captain called them. "Archer to T'Pol."  
  
She glanced at the wall, debating whether or not to answer.  
  
"Yes, Captain,"  
  
"Are you still in decon?"  
  
"No, we just left sickbay."  
  
"Good, then please join me on the bridge."  
  
"Captain, with all due respect, I am very tired and wish to rest."  
  
"Don't worry T'Pol, it won't take more than a minute. Bring Trip with you."  
  
At the mention of his name, Trip gave her a wayward smile. Her own gaze barely registered the concern in his face. As she turned toward the turbolift, he followed, mentally shrugging his shoulders. T'Pol stood quietly as the decks went by, coaching herself to remain calm and collected; to keep all the turmoil as hidden as possible. Nothing could have prepared her for what she saw when the lift doors opened. 


	5. chapter 5

On the bridge and in his captain's chair, Archer was reviewing the PADD given to him by the Vulcan Emris. It was a pretty interesting report. Apparently, the 6 Vulcans were all scientists or physicans and had been on their way to Kali 2, which held several research bases. The bases had reported a shortage of medical supplies and couldn't wait for the next scheduled drop-off. So, the Kev'Lir had been immediately dispatched with a skeleton crew and had been ordered to get there as quickly as possible, via a shortcut through the nebula. It seemed that they didn't know the aliens would open fire as soon as they were spotted.  
  
Finished with the PADD, the captain looked curiously at the Vulcan named Emris. He was obviously the senior among the group, and seemed unusually cooperative for a Vulcan. He had actually been polite to Archer's crew. Furthermore, he had offered to assist them by manning T'Pol's station. The thought that he resembled T'Pol still itched at the back of his mind. As if on cue, the lift doors opened to reveal his chief engineer and science officer. Trip looked to be his normal, cheerful self, but T'Pol was obviously under the weather, to say the least. Perhaps he should have let her go back to her quarters, but it was necessary to introduce her to their guests. About to do so, he stopped as T'Pol froze, eyes locked on the male Vulcan. He waited, somehow getting the feeling that T'Pol and Emris had met before.  
  
Emris rose gracefully in one slow, fluid moment, smiling inwardly. He had long awaited to see his little sister. His brief time on Enterprise had made him realize just how much he truly missed her. Nothing could prepare him for the sight he beheld. She was no longer the child she had been when he left. She had matured into a young woman, and a striking one at that. He was pleased to see that she hadn't outgrown her superior, commanding prescence, though she was the slightest and shortest of the senior crew, with the exception of Ensign Sato. But she was disturbed. The fact that she LOOKED disturbed was far more serious. T'Pol had always been her own master. What could possibly have reduced her to this?  
  
~Dear sister, what is wrong? Are you not pleased to see me?~  
  
She didn't respond, or for that matter even move.  
  
~T'Pol, don't you recognize me? I am your brother Emris.~  
  
~You are dead.~ She whispered shakily.  
  
~No, I am as alive as you.~  
  
~We found the beacon. There was no ship. You are dead; it is logical.~  
  
He had to fight an inward smile at her expense.  
  
~No, we were taken hostage. But I am here now, with you."  
  
He held out a hand, knowing that the only way she would believe was if she could touch him. Her gaze moved slowly to his outstretched palm. All other activity on the bridge stopped, waiting for the famed Subcommander's reaction.  
  
If T'Pol hadn't been completely bewildered and exhausted, she would have seen the reason in his explanation. As it was, her body seemed to control itself as she slowly reached out. Her fingers just barely brushed his, but it was enough. In one sweeping moment, he caught her hand and pulled her into a very unVulcan embrace.  
  
As T'Pol felt his warm strong body against hers and smelled the familiar smell, she knew he was in fact alive. A brand new strong emotion, a surge of relief, flooded her brain, and it was enough to make her mental dam shatter. She turned her face to his shoulder and cautiously wrapped her arms around his waist. Her body shook as she fought with her last remnants of strength to keep from sobbing. It would have been too humiliating to be caught in a very emotional response in front of her fellow tactical officers. A comforting and familiar presence slowly entered her conscious.  
  
~It is alright; do not be ashamed. I realize you must have go through a great deal.~  
  
Stubborn to the end, she retorted,  
  
~I would not have done this if I had been properly rested. I also believe living among humans is beginning to have negative effects on my mental condition.~  
  
She could feel his amusment.  
  
~You have not changed, little sister, though you are now a woman. Come, you should rest. I will explain this to the humans.~  
  
This whole encounter had barely taken a minute, and the entire crew was in shock. Captain Archer could barely keep from gaping, Hoshi was looking around with a huge yet confused smile on her pretty face, Malcolm looked on in wonder, Travis just stood uncomprehending, and Trip was looking from T'Pol to Emris, open-mouthed in confusion.  
  
Emris turned to Archer.  
  
"She is unwell. I believe it would be best if she returned to her quarters."  
  
Archer nodded, too dumbfounded to speak. After Emris and T'Pol exited the bridge, Trip voiced the thoughts of the group.  
  
"What the hell was that about?!"  
  
Hoshi smiled, finally comprehending the situation.  
  
"What are you smiling about, Hoshi?" Archer demanded.  
  
"They're siblings." She answered happily.  
  
"What?!"  
  
"He called her 'dear sister'. Don't you get it? They're brother and sister, and all this time she thought he was dead! Imagine her shock to walk in here and find him sitting at her consol!!!"  
  
Silence returned to the bridge. 'So that's why she was mournin'." Trip mused out loud.  
  
Archer turned to him.  
  
"Wait, you mean you knew she was in mourning?"  
  
"Yeah, that's why she was wearin' that green band."  
  
"What green band!?"  
  
"The one on her wrist. On the shuttlepod I asked her what was goin' on, and after a while she said she was in mournin. She never said it was her brother, though." Trip responded.  
  
Archer shook his head. Why didn't he know these things? He was the captain after all!  
  
Of course, just at that moment, Emris walked back onto the bridge. Archer rounded on him.  
  
"So when were you going to tell me that you were related to my science officer?"  
  
Emris didn't look even remotely disturbed by Archer's tone.  
  
"It is not considered appropriate for Vulcans to speak of relationships when the member being spoken of is not present."  
  
Archer glared at him. He should have known this guy was related to T'Pol. He had that same infuriating way of using Vulcan customs to keep him in the dark.  
  
Interpreting his silence as the end of the questions, Emris turned to Trip.  
  
"You are Commander Tucker."  
  
It wasn't a question, but somehow Trip felt that this man was his superior. He was suddenly painfully aware of the fact that he had been in the same uniform for nearly a day and hadn't shaved.  
  
"Yessir. Trip Tucker"  
  
"I am Emris."  
  
"Pleased ta meetcha."  
  
"T'Pol told me that she informed you of her situation. I trust you now understand why she behaved so . . . unusually."  
  
The question was directed to both the captain and Trip. Damn, this man just gets straight to the point, thought Archer. He sighed.  
  
"Will she be alright?"  
  
"She needs time to re-center herself and rest. She is already asleep."  
  
Archer thought for a moment, looked at Trip, and then asked,  
  
"In that case, would you like to take her place at my dinner table tonight?"  
  
Emris regarded him for a moment, his slight turn of the head an exact copy of T'Pol's.  
  
"Yes."  
  
Two days later, T'Pol was sitting on her meditation mat, letting the flicker of her candle flames warm her face. The reconstruction of her metal barriers had taken a good amount of time. She had been unable to work, spending all of her time either sleeping, eating, or meditating. Surprisingly, she had been unable to speak to or even think of Emris. Her mental condition dictated that she deal with it first, and the peace of mind his saftey afforded her allowed the process to take place. She knew that he checked in on her frequently, sometimes she could barely feel his presence in the back of her mind, checking to make sure she was relaxed. Finally, after two days spent in her quarters recuperating, she was able to speak with him.  
  
He entered her rooms at 0900 hours, just as she had asked. He sat at her meditation table, and regarded her in the scrutinizing way of an older brother.  
  
~You will be leaving soon?~  
  
~In a few minutes, actually. The High Command has sent a transport.~  
  
She was silent, ingesting this new information. She hadn't realized he would be leaving so soon. They had barely said anything to each other during his stay. It was too soon, but there was nothing she could do. The only option was to do what all Vulcans did; accept it. Resolved, she stood.  
  
~We should get to the docking bay.~  
  
They were met there by the Commander and Captain. The rest of the Vulcans were already aboard the transport.  
  
"Hope ya had a pleasant stay." Trip offered.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I'm sure you'll miss T'Pol." The captain said with the smile.  
  
The siblings looked at each other.  
  
"Yes, however we each have our respective duties to tend to." T'Pol responded.  
  
Archer nodded, understanding.  
  
Emris turned to T'Pol. He took a long look at her, memorizing her face. Finally, he gave her his tiny smile,  
  
~I know you are unhappy, but I promise that when you return to Vulcan, I will be there waiting for you. Do not concern yourself with my health. Do your job, and do it well.  
  
And with that, he left the Enterprise.  
  
She stood in his wake, wondering when she would she would return to Vulcan.  
  
"Ya know, bonds between sibs never die." Trip said quietly in her ear.  
  
She turned to him.  
  
"Yes, I know. Though we will most likely not meet again for some time, we will always be connected."  
  
They headed back to the bridge together, ready to face another day. 


End file.
